Shingeki no Lesbian Horses
by Ironypus
Summary: But she'd keep asking. She'd keep asking until humanity was safe. She reached for a knife with her mind, making it visible, making it hover between the things eyes.
1. Prey

It was an insipidly fine summers day, the birds sang sweet songs, all the children were playing and laughing, revelling in the gentle breeze that washed over them carrying the scent of a thousand wildflowers.

Twieren Sparkljaeger hated it.

She hated the bright, friendly sun for providing visibility to the enemy. She hated the children for not devoting themselves to building the factories they'd need to withstand the coming threat. She hated the adults for dismissing her claims, her pleas, as spiteful hate-speech. Could they not see the truth? Could they not feel the winds of change? How could an entire population be so blind?

As Twieren dwelt within her fortified treehouse, devising new and exciting ways to disembowel the enemy, another entity had plans for her...

Spiarmin burst into the room, the sudden change in air pressure sending loose pages a flight in a flurry, reminiscent of the aircraft Twieren was conceptualizing for use against the threat.

"Twieren! It's-" he cried out, blond hair askew.

Twieren moved with inhuman speed, becoming a green and purple blur. She barreled Spiarmin over, catching him in her telekinetic grasp, and thundered through the tree fort into a hidden room at the back. She punched through the glass with her shoed hoof, shards spraying, and hammered the big red button.

**_WEEEEEOOOOOOW! WEEEEEEOOOOOW!_**

A harsh klaxon blared, cutting the fine summers day short like a knife.

"Spiarmin!" bellowed Twieren, "Sound the alarm! We must warn the people! They are attacking! Call every able-bodied man to arms, have the rest erect the walls! For gods sake man, don't just stand there!"

Spiarmin tried to shout over the wailing klaxon, but he didn't have Twieren's lung capacity.

"Speak louder, soldier!" Twieren screamed at him.

"There is no attack! It was only a message from Princess Pixestia!"

The klaxon yammered on, filling the awkward silence.

"What?!" said Twieren.

"Yeah," said Spiarmin.

"What?!" asked Twieren louder, holding a foot to her ear.

Spiarmin rolled his eyes, glad they lived well out-of-town because now they'd have to wait for this bloody alarm to stop, and it was exceedingly noisy. It was the main reason they lived here, after all, all those noise complaints. He couldn't get arrested again.

Eventually the siren faded, bringing an ear ringing peace.

"There is no attack, just a message from Princess Pixestia," Spiarmin reiterated calmly.

Twieren gasped, "a message from the Commander? Has she finally seen the truth? Is she going to subcontract us into her defence force?"

It was at times like this Spiarmin wished he could leave, but if you were enslaved by magic there wasn't really much you could do about it.

"No," he said, "it's not that. It's just an order to go outside and make friends"

"Friends!" spat Twieren, mouth twisted in vinegar spite. "The only friends I need are Superior Firepower and Annihilation Oftheenemey"

"Comrades, then," Spiarmin shook his head, pronouncing the word like com-raids. "Comrades to watch your back during the war"

Twieren's lip curled. "I suppose a general would need to know his men, so they might throw themselves upon the enemies sword at his command"

"Yeah, sure whatever," Spiarmin grumbled. Twieren really needed to get out of the house, and _he_ really needed a drink.

"Then we must abscond post-haste!" said Twieren, rearing up in a gesture of grandiose might. "To the repository!"

And with that she galloped off deeper into the tree house, hooves galumphing on the floorboards, drumming out some ancient, hate filled song.

* * *

Twieren and Spiarmin cantered down the worn dirt track into town, teeth bared in anger and the frivolities before her. How could they all be so naïve? How could they all just go about their daily business, getting fat and lazy and slovenly? Look at those store owners, hawking cheap and gaudy trinkets instead of manuals in martial arts, ninja stars and assorted medieval armour?

The disgusting laxness of it all! Twieren herself was of course wearing full body armour and carrying at least seven swords, knives and other bladed weapons.

"They are the prey and we are the hunters," she said to them, knowing that they knew she spoke the truth, for she could see fear in their eyes.

They had the fear, but did nothing with it.

_Nothing but animals._

Twieren suddenly stopped dead still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. Across the town square she could see _it_. An enemy spy. No matter how many times she tried to beat the truth out of it, it never gave anything away, so the townspeople never knew the truth. The enemy was cunning indeed.

Using her magic, Twieren cloaked herself with invisibility, vanishing to the world. She bucked Spiarmin off her back, so he wouldn't give the game away. And with that done, she followed.

The vile creäture limped away on crutches, affectations it kept from its last beating. It didn't need them of course, the enemy healed far too quickly for that, but if it didn't have them it's disguise would be exposed. So of course she was going to steal them. Again.

The enemy agent made it's slow pottering way out of the village, pink hair curling in the breeze. Twieren noticed it's face was smiling. How utterly disgusting. How dare it pretend to be like them! How dare it pretend to have emotions, to feel. How dare it pretend to have a name. It made her blood boil. She could feel her muscles contort in abject fury, but she couldn't attack. Not yet. She had to wait until they were out of sight lest the villagers jump in and unwittingly save a monster.

Luckily for her, the beast was headed for her favourite secluded grove, showing once again that the thing couldn't learn, only imitate. Twieren had rustled it twice there before, and couldn't fathom it being a sentient being if it returned a third time. That there was just asking for a beat down.

The spy lay it's crutches down and began to sing, a sweet song of deception, the same song that lulled the idiot villagers into a false sense of security.

Small woodland creatures gathered to it, birds flew from their mighty perches, and it spoke to them.

ZOUNDS! Though Twieren, the spy has spies!

Using her telekinesis, Twieren lifted her blades and set them loose like the dogs of war. It was almost like a wall of invisible blades was tearing across the clearing, hacking and pulping the animals into a fine pâté.

The enemy let out a hideous facsimile of an anguished wail, like it was able to feel the grief of a lost friend. Long ago, Twieren had felt that grief when the enemy took her mother, and now this, this _monster_ was taking it for her own!

With a fierce battle cry, Twieren tore off her front hoof-shoes exposing five-fingered hands, and launched herself at the thing, beating it about the head and temples. She let fly a kick into the ribs of the beast, feeling a satisfying crunch, before punching it right in the mouth and pinning the thing to the loam.

"Where will the attack come from?" Twieren shouted, customarily masking her voice into a mans gravely tenor. "Where do your allies hide?"

The beast whimpered, tears of red staining its yellow fur.

Twieren pulled it up and bashed its head against the ground, "Answer me!?"

But the thing would only cry.

It never said a word.

Never gave its side away.

Twieren was beginning to think it hadn't been told, to prevent this very situation from bearing fruit.

But she'd keep asking.

She'd keep asking until humanity was safe.

She reached for a knife with her mind, making it visible, making it hover between the things eyes.

"Tell me!"

But all the thing did was hyperventilate and pass out from a panic attack.

How cunning.

Twieren scoffed, half impressed with the enemies resilience to interrogation. The only thing it's equal was her own, tried and tested by the very monsters she utterly and without reservation despised.

There was no more to be found out here, she'd have to try again later, which was probably several weeks to months away. Twieren admitted that planning a complete military defence strategy for the town by herself was exceedingly time-consuming. Then there was the weapons designing. Designing the strong architecture they'd need to erect walls strong enough to keep Them out. Inventing the concept of engineering singlehandedly. Refining fuel. The list went on. But if she had to be the war effort all on her own, so be it.

Those fuckers would pay.

Pay with their lives.

Twieren gathered up her magic, collected her swords and shoes, telepathically located Spiarmin and teleported herself to his location. The teleportation took effect, ripping open a yawning void in spacetime, sucking her in, and spitting her out the other end.

She felt her eyes bulge at the sight before her.

"Adoptive Sister!" Twieren said in genuine genialness.

Miraibaka Dackerman whipped her head around, thin eyes finding the spot where Twieren was still invisible.

"Twieren," she said, her voice as measured as ever, giving nothing away, bellying her immense athletic ability and brilliant tactical mind.

She would make a good soldier come the war.

Twieren uncloaked herself, "keeping yourself well, I hope?"

Miraibaka nodded once.

"Superb!"

"Will you be..." Miraibaka said slowly, as though she was fishing for something, "coming to the Festival of Light tonight?"

The Festival of Light of a celebration of Princess Pixestia and her tireless crusade of raising the life-giving sun in the sky each morning. But to Twieren, it had a different meaning, the true meaning, a darker meaning. True they needed the sun, but it didn't have to be so bright, and that brightness fed The Enemy. The name was also a prophecy. On the first festival, back when it was called The Sundance Festival, a truly evil Dark Lord appeared. A Dark Lord by the name of Light. With his magic notebook, an artefact capable of bringing imagination to life, he created the Enemy among them. But the Dark Lord was sly, and the townspeople fools. His vile creations acted like everyone else, more human even, but for all their affability, they still preyed upon the town. Slowly at first, but gaining steam over a thousand years, and now, Twieren was sure, They would strike with their full might and annihilate everything she'd ever known.

That was why she had to stop them.

That was why she had to be prepared.

"Of course not," Twieren lied easily, "do you think that I'd lower myself to the level of those peons?"

"No," replied Miraibaka in that even tone of hers.

"No indeed," she said.

* * *

The complacency was the worst part. The wilful ignorance. Their inability to listen to reason because it disrupted their comfortable lives.

But she had to protect them. She had to save their lives. It was only Right.

It was only Good.

Twieren Sparkljaeger perched atop a spire on the clock tower, the immensely bright lights causing a tell-tale shimmer in her otherwise impenetrable invisibility. From this high place she watched the idiots gambol and frolic, content in ignoring the threat.

But she would watch over them, as a protector. The one they deserved, the one they needed. She would be their knight in dark armour.

The Festival of Light continued unabated.

* * *

Princess Pixestia stepped forward, to give the customary address. To assure the brain-dead hicks of their value and safety.

"Welcome! Welcome! Happy Festival of Light! Another year has passed us by, leaving us no less prosperous. This day marks an extra special occasion, a thousand years from the very first Festival of Light! And it just so happens I have a very special surprise for you all my loyal subjects!"

Everyone cheered.

Disgusting.

"To commemorate this momentous occasion, I would lie to introduce you all to someone _special!"_

A massive jolt ran through the air, like a bomb had gone off. Again. Rhythmically. Explosions of air, like gigantic wing beats. All the lights and lanterns had dimmed, leaving only the moon to provide luminescence.

Twieren looked up suddenly, scanning the sky for danger. But what good was scanning the sky, when the sky itself was hawking down at you like a bird of prey?

A horse, no larger than Pixestia dropped out of the sky like a falling zeppelin, her gargantuan wings misting out behind her, trailing up to an unfathomable height, spitting gentle sparkles like starlight.

She landed next to Pixestia.

And they kissed.

I had been right.

Pixestia turned to the crowd as the thundering hooves of a thousand Lesbian Horses was carried in on the night wind.

"And may the Odds Be Ever in your Favour!"


	2. Protection

Twieren began to pant, breaths coming in quick and stained cold from the night air, the sound of distant hoof beats slowly getting louder and louder. Her mind felt fuzzy and yet her path of action was clear, hammered into her mind from extensive planning, every path of action mapped out in advance.

Her eyes began to glow, purple beacons of hope for the terrified ponies yammering below, their feeble minds unable to comprehend that Princess Dot Pixestia was a Lesbian Horse. Their beloved, benevolent monarch making out with the self-titled Nightmare Moon right before their eyes. Twieren knew this would not be proof enough for them, and the fools would stand there, waiting for the tide of Lesbian Horses to come crashing down.

She activated her magic, drawing it in from the environment, channelling it through her horn and casting Far Sight. Twieren cast her gaze to the south, the source of the hoof beats. The Enemy was still far away. Pixestia had estimated the villagers correctly, but she'd underestimated _her!_

Twieren redirected her magic in quick, precise movements, concentrating it about her lungs and throat. She would smirk about this later. Now was the time for action.

"PONIES!"

Her voice echoed over the village, magically amplified, transmitting directly to the townspeople's ears.

"IT IS TIME! LOOK BEFORE YOU, LOOK TO YOUR QUEEN! IT WAS PROPHESISED LONG AGO THAT THE LESBIAN HORSES WOULD RETURN, PROPHESISED THAT THEIR COMING WOULD BE THE DEATH OF ALL LIFE, PROPHESISED THAT TODAY WOULD BE THE END OF DAYS! AND WHAT DO WE SAY TO THE GOD OF DEATH?! _NOT TODAY!_ TODAY IS NOT A GOOD DAY TO DIE! YOU HAVE FAMILIES AND CHILDREN, PEOPLE YOU WANT TO PROTECT! AND TO DO THAT YOU MUST TAKE UP THE SWORD! CAST OFF THE SHACKLES OF YOUR MIND, ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THIS TOWN IS LOST! BUT YOU ARE NOT! USE THE HUMILIATION OF OPPRESSION TO POWER THE FIST OF RETALIATION! TODAY MANKIND HAS RECEIVED A GRIM REMINDER, THAT WE WILL LIVE IN FEAR OF THE LESBIAN HORSES INSIDE THESE CAGES WE CALL WALLS!

"I HAVE PREPARED A SHELTER, A MIGHTY KEEP TO SAVE US! TO RECEIVE PROTECTION FROM THE THREAT YOU NEED ONLY ASK!"

Twieren sliced off a fraction of power, volume dropping minutely, and diverted it to an illusory spell. A great neon yellow arrow pointed west, to her tree house fort.

"_THEY ARE THE PREY AND WE ARE THE HUNTERS!"_

And with that, Twieren redirected her magic entirely to teleportation, reappearing on the far side of the courtyard amid slack jawed ponies.

"Retreat!" she cried, passion cracking her voice. "Retreat to Helms Deep!"

Twieren set off at a run to the west end of the village, keen ears pricked for sounds of following hooves.

For seven long seconds there was silence, and in reality, Twieren didn't expect any sort of response from the villagers. They may as well have been livestock-

"To the Keep!"

Twieren stumbled, managing to keep her feet, managing to not look back because what the hell was that? Adoptive Sister!

A resounding roar erupted from the throats of the ponies, come to their senses at last, echoing Miraibaka's words. Hundreds of ponies turned their flanks eastward, and ran. Ran as hard as they could.

Pixestia's one half opened eye tracked their progress, her only response being to writhe her tongue further down Nightmare Moon's throat.

* * *

Ponies crowded the exterior of the tree fort, a thick ocean of pastel coloured manes, stagglers drifting in in ones and twos, their puffing breaths coming out in white clouds.

Twieren noted their slovenly pace, their rolling chub, fat thighs completely unused to harsh exercise. In the event of an invasion they would be the first to die, unable to outrun the Lesbian Horses. She'd have to put the exercise program a little higher up the priority list, but for now she had to address her people.

She had to turn them into her army.

She had to make them survive.

As she tried reaching for her magic there was a sudden wrenching emptiness deep in her gut, a chillingly cold feeling, like malice itself.

Her magic was gone.

"Ponies!" Twieren bellowed, leaping up onto a tall tree root for a makeshift platform. "You have all heard the stories, dread tales whispered late at night to scare children, and you thought them lies! Rightly so! It was not expected of you to think about dangerous things, to delve deep into ancient scrolls searching for truths, that was my job, the job I took unto myself! Know that I do not blame you for the years of scorn I have endured for my decision, the time for blame has passed, the time for action is now! We must act swiftly against the Lesbian Horses for even now they charge into what was once your precious town! I have built a great wall to keep them out, and it is that wall we must now raise! I expect some of you have noticed by now that your magic is failing you, as expected of Pixestia! Our foe is powerful, you know this, powerful enough to raise the sun in the sky and tear it down again every day! Honestly, I never expected to live this far, but it seems out enemy is far crueller than I predicted, stretching out our days into a miserable struggle for survival! I expect even the pegasi are unable to fly, their wings now vestigial organs without magic to power them! Even earth ponies may have their agricultural prowess sapped. Let us only hope this magic block affects Pixestia also, for if it doesn't, we are already dead. I go to raise the wall, but I cannot turn the crank on my own"

Twieren hopped down from the root and walked inside the tree house without a backwards glance, if anyone was going to help, they could follow the map stuck on the hallway wall.

The wall was something easy enough to make back when she had her magic to do all the heavy lifting. Digging, masonry and assembly was simple with telekinesis, but now the crank was going to be a struggle even with a full team. Twieren left the basement hatch open as she climbed down the steel ladder.

There were three basement levels. Emergency living, storage and crank. There was enough space in level one to accommodate maybe a quarter of the ponies outside, the rest would have to pitch one of her many tents out in the open. This was why they needed to raise the wall.

As Twieren opened the third level hatch, small footsteps echoed around the room as Spiarmin sprinted into view.

"Nice speech," he said scratching at his spiked coif, "a bit dull though, a bit guilt trippy"

"I have no idea what you mean," said Twieren, lowering herself down into the crank room.

This room was circular and twice as tall as the other levels, a few doors leading off to maintainence chambers. But the main attraction was the crank dominating the view. Ten meters long, attached to a giant iron pole which was attached to a giant cog which was attached to more cogs and so on until the wall was raised from just under the ground.

"Sure you don't, fearless leader," Spiarmin swept a fake salute. "I swear, if you were any more bloody conceited your head would explode from too much ego"

"If I weren't so bloody conceited, we'd all be bloody dead," spat Twieren, glaring at the enormous crank as though that alone were enough.

"No," said Spiarmin slowly, "That's not right is it? You could easily have been a thousand times nicer from the start, not done everything on your own, but then you wouldn't get the pleasure of being Right. You wanted it to be like this, to have them all in your debt, have them all know deep down that you saved all their lives and that they can never repay you and you can spend the rest of your life lording it over them because otherwise you would have died alone, old and shrivelled and in tears because the idea of you, the long suffering, wrongly persecuted Twieren Sparkljaeger being Right was the only true love you would ever know"

Twieren said nothing for a time, only glaring at the crank.

"Besides that not being true, is anyone coming to help? Or are they all going to let themselves die at the only time I can't save them?" she leant against the crank and turned to face Spiarmin.

Spiarmin obediently left, even though, Twieren noted, the magic keeping him bound may well be null if he bothered to check. But he didn't bother to check. None of them ever bothered to check. And they would continue not bothering to check right up until the Lesbian Horses slaughtered them all like poultry in a meat grinder.

That was why.

That was why she had to do everything

Do everything to keep everyone alive.

It was only Right.

It was only _Good_.

It was then that Miraibaka dropped through the hatch and landed gracefully, coming up in a roll.

"Adoptive Sister!" Twieren grinned.

Miraibaka nodded and joined her in leaning against the crank. "I liked your speech," she said, "even if it was a little loaded"

It was strange how she didn't mind that it was Miraibaka calling out the manipulative tone of her speech, maybe because she'd already been through an even harsher dressing down.

"Thank you, I have another all lined up about how we should cast off the slave names Pixestia gave us and rule by the people rather than dictatorship"

"Even if a populace unified under a single strong hoof is what we need right now?"

Twieren licked her lips, hoof shoes tapping against the concrete floor. "I can't risk setting up something like that and then me dying"

If someone from the people got into head office and had access to all that power, it was her estimate that the Lesbian Horses would be let in to exterminate them all with open arms in just under two months.

"I could take over for you," Miraibaka trailed off before she finished, shifting her newly useless wings into a more comfortable position.

Twieren chuckled, "You just don't have the savageness, Adopted Sister"

Lie.

"That crowd of ingrates would eat you alive"

Lie.

"It would take longer than we have to train you into a hardened enough leader"

Megalomania and trust issues.

Or so Spiarmin would say. She really was doing this to save them.

"I'm still going to try," whispered Miraibaka.

"Please do," Twieren whispered back.

A few minutes of silence passed, bringing with it a new sense of camaraderie, and finally Spiarmin with twenty or so ponies.

"I would ask what took so long," Twieren said, already straining against the crank, trying to keep her voice like that of a leader and not a spiteful teenager. "But then you'd just waste time making excuses, time better spent erecting the wall and not getting killed"

The ponies had the decency to look marginally embarrassed as they stepped forward to meet their destiny.

With a mighty rumble, the wall rose.

* * *

Twieren stood once more on the raised tree root, this time bearing a simplistic megaphone.

"We have arisen Wall Sina and secured our safety but know this, ponies! This safety is only temporary! The Lesbian Horses _will_ come after us, and lesbihonest, I don't know what they're capable of! The tales for children denote them as mindless shambling beasts, giant mincers of pony flesh. Other, more obscure stories tell them to be capable of simple tactics, and, as we've seen today, there may even be some like Pixestia capable of sapient thought but that does not mean they are not our enemy! Their sapience only makes them that much more terrifying! These creatures are savage, they will devour us alive without a second thought. This is why we must prepare! Cast your eyes to Wall Sina, six hundred meters out and fifty meters high of unbreakable rock to keep the Lesbian Horses out. But it also keeps us in! How will we grow food? How will we get water? I have already collected a vast number of seeds and the ground here is prime real estate for agriculture. As for the water there is a river not far from here to which I was in the process of attaching a pump. This pump will be completed eventually, but for now we need brave ponies to gather buckets of nourishing liquid! And there is something else I would ask of you brave ponies, I would ask you to cast of the slave names Pixestia saw fit to grace you with! Twieren Sparkljaeger?! Such a name is an embarrassment! So if you will, brave ponies, cast off the shackles of oppression and shout thine name! I am -!"

Twieren's voice cut off, a strangled choking sound stopping her from speaking her chosen name. This was unfair. Pixestia was able to keep this enchantment running, but cut off their magic? Twieren took a deep breath, and continued.

"It would seem we are under a dehumanising handicap, brave ponies! Pixestia has stripped us of the right to have names of our own, names that don't make us was to puke in disgust! Let us show her how much of a mistake that was! Let us turn these into names that she fears! And on that day Pixestia learns fear, We shall learn _Victory!"_

A rumbling cheer rose from four hundred pony throats, securing their fates once and for all.


	3. Provide

It was nearing daybreak of the first morn after The End, the day as crisp and beautiful as ever, Princess Pixestia having raised the sun in the sky and set it about its merry way, it's cheerful rays already peeking up over the horizon.

How Twieren _hated_ it. She hated how so many things went not according to plan, how Pixestia retained her full retinue of abilities while they were left to grovel in the dirt like animals.

She balled her fists beneath her hoof shoes, directing every ounce of rage she possessed at the worst kind of enemy: A Bully. Twieren was sure Pixestia would continue to torment them all until there was nothing left but ash. That was the worst, a thing that tormented for her own sick pleasure, gaining nothing but quickly fading enjoyment; like a drug user.

And whatever Spiarmin might say, Twieren always had a reason.

The first sliver of brilliant orange plasma ball bloomed, striking Twieren in the face. It was time. She trotted over to a gigantic bell dangling from the uppermost branch of her house and kicked it with all her might.

A powerful _BWONG _tolled over the shanty town of tents to rouse the sleeping residents and get them ready for the most gruelling experience of their lives; helping themselves. Thirty seconds passed and yet no pony poked his or her face out of the tent flaps. Twieren kicked harder thrice more and waited.

Slowly ponies began to rustle awake. Far too slow. What if the Lesbian Horses decided to pay a visit? Slovenly. Slovenly is what they were, but hard labour and a forced diet and a constant threat would soon change that.

"Twieren," said a tired but firm voice from behind her.

"Adoptive sister," Twieren said, turning around to allow Miraibaka sight of her smile. Even if it was genuine endearing yourself to your soon to be lieutenant was only prudent. "Already availing yourself of my armoury I see?"

Miraibaka had indeed chosen her second best stab vest and two katana.

Amsuing.

"I figured you wouldn't mind," said Miraibaka, supressing a yawn and rubbing at her eyes. "Considering what's happening"

Twieren snorted with laughter, "You're lucky I like you so much or I would have made you put it back until I handed it out to everyone, although I suppose," she gave Miraibaka a sly look, "being my second in command helps"

"Upon your command, my King," Miraibaka knelt in sarcastic fealty.

"As it should be," Twieren replied in a faux posh accent. "I may even allow you to ring my bell," she gestured to the huge bronze bell, "well don't be shy"

Miraibaka rolled her eyes and leapt, curving through the air like an arrow and dealing a heavy blow. An extremely loud wave of sound startled the waking ponies who seemed to think they were being summoned to the tree. Twieren was going to have them gather at the parade grounds to establish a military air, but that could wait a few minutes with no harm done.

And together, Twieren and Miraibaka, descended.

* * *

"My pony bretheren," began Twieren once more clutching the simple megaphone in her hoof. How that still worked without magic was a mystery, and she fully expected to have to unveil her hands, but was glad she did not. They disgusted her, those unnatural appendages. And anything _she_ considered unseemly the villagers would find lynchable. But she did it for them. What would they do with their clumsy hoofs when Pixestia took away their magic? How would they hold a sword or a hoe? Lucky. Lucky and suspicious.

"We are at war. We are at total war. We need to fight back immediately with everything we have, grasping at any means necessary for victory. If we do not we will all die, thus, I am instating a military force into which every able bodied man and woman shall be conscripted. Fear not," said Twieren seeing the looks on their faces, "you will all first off till the soil so we may eat once my food supplies have run out. The work will be gruelling, but you must do it or you will die. And you will cause the deaths of others. Refusal to comply will have everyone, your friends and family, starve. We need your help! I need your help! Help me help you!" Twieren sincerely doubted a single speech would get the lazy pony lot off their fat arses and help themselves, to imagine for a single second that they would act in their best interests was obscenely optimistic. No matter how pervasive their sheep like tendency to do whatever authority told them.

"The farmland is ready! Very soon I will be handing out pamphlets with simple instructions of day to day life, which when you sign off on, you will receive a farming implement. The pamphlet contains a map and I will shortly be around to each area to distribute more complete instructions. You must press on, brave ponies, I am confident you are good enough!"

Twieren swept a majestic bow, hopefully some flattery would offer _some_ miniscule granule of motivation compared to her usual impassioned speeches. Spiarmin was wrong about that, she had tried to be nice. _Once_. A delightful presentation in the middle of town, a showing of cold, hard fact. Deductions. Educated guesses.

And she was laughed at, booed off the stage at nine years old.

That was six years ago.

Her first taste of what ponies actually were like.

A herd.

Dumb.

Animals.

Meat.

"Form a line!" She ordered grimly but not unkindly. "Everyone line up next to the stage!"

Twieren hopped off her giant root and walked over to the trestle table which was loaded with stacks of paper and framed by every piece of equipment a farmer could need and with Spiarmin bringing out even more. She wondered if he had noticed he was no longer her slave.

As the ponies shifted like idiots, trying to figure out who was bravest to go first, Twieren inspected her pamphlets. They were a little out-dated in philosophical concepts, but that was fine. She wasn't much of an artist, but Twieren figured they were fine.

Thick clear writing spelt out the propaganderous slogan: _God only knows; just believe in myself, in my dream, anyone could be a hero and heroine._

Hopefully at least ONE pony would find it inspiring enough to slough off their herdmind groupthink snakeskin.

As usual, Miraibaka was first in line. Twieren smiled at this vote of confidence, her adoptive sister would go far in her regime...

"I thought you weren't trying to set yourself up as a dictator," Miraibaka murmured, signing her name on the list.

As usual, Twieren couldn't detect a hint of anything in her voice; she would need that control come the first battle.

"I have to be the uniting point, at first. I can't, in good conscience, let this lot govern themselves. They don't know how. They've spent their whole lives under Pixestia, I need to ease them into it," Twieren handed her adoptive sister a pamphlet and a hoe, marking her off as working in Field 1. "Field 1," she told her.

Miraibaka's face made a funny sort of spasm, a micro expression really, that could have been a smile. Could she tell perhaps, that she was going to be given favoured treatment for entirely logical reasons? Field 1 was the smallest, closest to the supplies and shade of the tree.

But really, that was more of a little test of Twierens, to see if the most fit ponies, after they had completed their just visibly smaller share of the work would perhaps offer to help the others?

Even Twieren had to admit it was slightly cruel.

But necessary if she was going to shame the lot of them into being Good.

Into being Right.

The next pony strode up, all flapping nostrils and fidgeting eyes.

"Good morning," Twieren bestowed her with a leaderly expression, "sign here please"

* * *

It was midmorning and about half the ponies had been processed when Twieren saw it. The- the vile _thing_ had gone so far as to infiltrate HER HOME!? She would not stand for it. No. Not at all. Nope.

Fuck that.

Twieren burst through the table, pamphlets sent flying erratically by her sudden charge, and slammed an iron shod hoof into the things soft pastel yellow face.

A spray of blood burst from its deceiving mouth, a tooth sent flying. It stumbled to the dirt and Twieren continued her assault, using the hoof and the rock. She dragged it by its fake pink wig of a mane, out in front of the assembled and ripped a solid knee into its eye.

The beast keeled over and twitched, not yet unconscious. So Twieren stamped at its legs and kept on stamping until she felt something break.

"Hey!" A shaky shout echoed from the crowd, from a fearful looking mare. Twieren marked her down for later consideration as a leader.

"Yes?" Twieren asked mildly, dropping its blood splattered face roughly and turning to face the ponies.

"Um... You shouldn't be doing that," said the pony looking most uncomfortable. And sick. She looked quite ill.

"Oh," Twieren laughed pleasantly before hardening her face like steel. "This is a lesbian Horse Spy," she spat out. "You know this, I have told you before. Over and over and over. In fact, if I'm wrong, I'll personally pay any reparations asked of me. I'll stake my entire," she punctuated this with a rib shattering kick, "reputation," another kick, "on it being one of them. If I'm wrong you'll never have to listen to me again, ever."

The pony slowly and silently averted its gaze.

Twieren knelt down beside the Spy, picked up its heavily bleeding head and spoke to it.

"You see that? Their inaction? They know I'm right. But the moral centre of their brains baulks at seeing such brutality. And yet they do nothing. You don't have to hide anymore, we've found you. _Lesbian Horse!_"

For ten strained, tense seconds nothing happened.

Then the yellow spies eye rolled in its socket, making contact with Twieren's.

_Boom._

A bright yellow/green flash of lightning preceded a blast of steam and displaced air. False flesh burst from its skin, writhing like so many worms, it formed bones, muscles, skin, organs.

Now twice its original size the Lesbian Horse stood up gracefully on slender legs, rolling its elegant neck to eye them all kindly, "we're really not bad, you know" it said, voice like a crystal flute.

Twieren leapt up from where she had been knocked over and ran in the opposite direction. Why hadn't she foreseen the spy? Why had she acted so rashly? She needed to get to her sword.

As she reached it, she spent a single second looking over her shoulder-

Carnage.

She grabbed her sword, suddenly wishing for her telekinesis, she might have been able to arm everyone.

Twieren let out a savage roar, a battle cry to let all those who defied her know that they would die, in the most excruciating way possible.

The Lesbian Horse turned to face her, majestic muzzle smeared with blood, an intestine dangling from its dainty mouth.

Twieren swung low, catching it along the breast, letting her momentum carry her through the spray of bright red blood.

Mobility was key.

She barely dodged a hoof-

Swung again at the already steam healing chest muscles, if she could cripple it long enough-

It bit her on the soft part of her back, grinding her meat, muscle and bone together.

Twieren was of course wearing full body armour.

She stabbed the Lesbian Horse right through the face, stabbing a gouge into its brain. But that would not stop it long. She limped backwards, getting room for another lunging charge, but as she swung, taking its leg, another leg kicked her in the ribs, sending her flying along the hard dirt.

Twieren dry heaved, the Lesbian Horse had thoroughly winded her. To think, defeated on their first day by a single enemy. How embarrassing.

The Lesbian Horse loomed, trilling, revelling in its victory-

"TWIEREN!"

That desperate shout, such a sound never before heard by her ears and yet it was somehow familiar; Twieren turned at the same moment the Lesbian Horse did and saw Miraibaka barrelling towards them like some kind of mag-lev freight train.

The lesbian Horse brayed capriciously as it met its new prey in a shower of its own blood.

Chunks of steaming, already evaporating meat flew willy nilly from the Lesbian Horse, carved by Miraibakas expert swords.

With a final curling swipe, Miraibaka cut the beast through the nape of its neck and all the way through to the other side.

It's head fell heavily to the ground, the crowd of dumbstruck ponies gasping in unison.

Twieren coughed as she forced herself back to her feet and dragged her injured frame over to Miraibaka whose normally calm face was frozen in a wide eyed mask of shock. Twieren pulled a red scarf from a utility pouch pocket and pressed it against Miraibakas bleeding neck.

She flinched at the touch and turned to her, tears brimming in her eyes, mouth opening to say something-

"Do not lose composure," urged Twieren gently, "not in front of Them. Cry all you like later with me in Recovery, we can't afford a morale loss"

Miraibaka breathed in shakily, once, twice, and out.

"Yes, Captain!" she snapped to as much of an attention as she could.

Yes captain indeed. Now that the masses had seen a fight, had been desensitised that one little bit, seen a victory, no doubt they'd throw themselves into their work with a fanatic fervour; for at least five to seven days.

Twieren smiled, outside kindness masking inside scheming, and she escorted her adopted sister to the Hospital Wing.

_Today they received a grim reminder, that pony-kind lived in fear of the Lesbian Horses, and only were they safe inside my walls._

All in all, today had been a good day.


End file.
